


so let's hang an anchor from the sun

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Compromise, F/M, Romance, this is long af i don't know what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: “Deanna,” a voice calls.She turns, squinting into the Risian sunset, and the shape of a familiar figure comes into view.“Will? I thought you weren’t coming.”“Changed my mind,” he says slowly. “Realised what was important after all.”(The fic where Will chose Deanna.)
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	so let's hang an anchor from the sun

Deanna is fine. Absolutely fine; never better.

She can have a great time on Risa by herself, and never mind Will Riker.

That resolve only lasts until the first night, when she gets into the suite they were supposed to have shared and cries herself sick.

By day six, she stops crying herself to sleep. On day ten, she shows up at the Starfleet recruitment fair and leaves having signed her life away for two years minimum.

Screw Will and his damn ambition. She can have some of her own.

“Deanna,” a voice calls.

She turns, squinting into the Risian sunset, and the shape of a familiar figure comes into view. Will Riker is approaching her across the sand in full Starfleet uniform; he looks out of place in this lazy paradise.

“Will? I thought you weren’t coming.”

Will’s head is bowed, his expression careful.

“Changed my mind,” he says slowly. “Realised what was important after all.”

And he really does mean it, she can sense it from him.

Deanna glares at him, determined not to be remotely swayed by Will Riker and his stupid, charming face and his stupid, charming smile.

“You think it's that simple?” she says, trying to sound steady though her voice is shaking. “You thought you'd just show up here and I'd forget everything, all is forgiven?”

“No, but I can wait,” Will says. “I know I hurt you, Deanna. I'm not proud of it. But I put in for a six month sabbatical. I’ve got time.”

“Right now?” Deanna’s face twists. “But you were offered that posting on the _Potemkin_ _._ ”

“I told Captain Callas thanks, but I had something else I needed to do.”

The words _career suicide_ and _mistake_ and _what is he thinking_ run through Deanna’s mind. Then comes the worse thought, _this was everything I wanted, but not like this._ She thanks all the Betazoid deities in existence that she’s currently shielding her thoughts from Will right now.

“Will,” she says, as kindly as she can. “This isn’t a good time. I just took the oath. I’m going to San Francisco tomorrow to start my training at the Academy. They have a new two-year accelerated program for mental health professionals.”

“What, why would you do that?” Will practically spits the words in the speed he manages to get them out.

“You aren’t the only one who wants a career, you know,” Deanna replies curtly.

She’s conscious of her swimsuit now, tight and figure-hugging with cutouts that reveal too much skin. She pulls her sarong around herself, wondering how she’s uncomfortable around the man she’s spent so many nights skin-to-skin with, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his thoughts mingling with hers. Tears sting at her eyes and she clenches her jaw, blinking them back.

Will can see her covering herself, shrinking away from him and he looks hurt. He wasn’t even looking at her body, so earnest he is about the decision he’s made.

He sits down heavily on the sand.

“I just gave up a posting under one of the most respected captains in Starfleet,” Will says miserably. “With the rank of lieutenant commander, at that.”

Deanna is fighting to keep her emotions under control. It’s too much — the callous subspace message from him a week ago that shattered her world, and now him showing up like he can undo the fact that he broke her heart. Like her dreams don’t matter as much as his did.

“Don’t you _dare_ blame me for that, Will Riker,” she practically hisses, letting her voice drip with all the aristocratic snobbery she knows Will secretly hates about her planet. “You made your own choices. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to pack. I hear there’s plenty of jamaharon on offer if you’re at a loss for something to do.”

Will’s face reddens; he knows he went too far, and maybe he deserved everything he got in return.

“Deanna,” he pleads. “I’m sorry. Wait. Let’s at least talk about this.”

Deanna stomps away, which isn’t an easy thing to do on sand, but she just about pulls it off. She hears a faint _imzadi, please_ through the traces of their mind-link that still remain, and firmly walls him out until he gets the message and withdraws.

Next morning, after a soothing icoberry eye mask to depuff her tear-swollen eyes, Deanna takes her small case to the shuttle landing pad. The other recruits politely shake her hand and introduce themselves as they all pile onto the shuttle together.

The buzz of excitement and nervousness from all the minds around her nearly turns her stomach. She tries not to think of Will, but the familiar ache in her chest starts up again like clockwork.

There’s a creak as someone sits in the seat next to her.

“Morning,” Will says brightly.

Deanna controls herself. She pointedly ignores him and pulls out a xenolinguistics textbook.

Will tries a few more times, but ultimately stops trying to talk to her on the second day of their ten-day trip through warp space. He’s no fool. She is intensely curious about why he’s going to Earth, but to ask would signal to him that she wants further contact. She can’t be distracted right now.

She sleeps a lot in her cramped bunk, makes a start on the first semester’s required readings — _Level 1 Subspace Mechanics, First Contact: A History, Fundamentals of Exobiology —_ and joins a few poker games and conversations with her fellow cadets. Her comparatively exotic accent and dress sense raise a few eyebrows, but at least they are kind, and understand enough about Betazed to realise that what she can do is no threat to them.

For the first time, Deanna understands the light in Will’s eyes whenever he talked about Starfleet.

It’s a kind of family.

She spends her first weeks at the academy in a permanent state of exhaustion.

The accelerated programme is intense, even for a woman who grew up and studied on a planet of fiercely disciplined intellectuals. Completing her studies in two years means squeezing extra classes into her already packed schedule. Deanna puts away her Betazoid silks with some regret and pulls on the ugly red uniform every morning, the sign that she belongs here.

It’s a while before she sees Will again. She hears enough to know he’s working here, but that’s it. In her third month as a cadet, she spots him crossing the quad. He throws her a friendly wave from a distance, and she has to admit he is at least respecting her boundaries. He has a beard now.

There isn’t much time to think of him, much less anything else outside of her studies. She dates a little, but keeps it casual. Her heart's not yet ready for anything more.

She forgets Will. For now.

“Have coffee with me, imzadi,” Will suggests when they bump into each other in the Starfleet Archives. It’s been nearly eight months since that fateful day on Risa, and he appears to have extended his sabbatical for now.

Deanna hesitates, unable to resist probing at his mind, but there’s no expectation in his thoughts that she can sense. He just wants to spend time with her.

“Okay,” she replies cautiously. “We should catch up.”

The beard does give him a somewhat dashing quality, she thinks that night, tossing and turning in her bed, her skin hot and her nerves jangling at the thought of meeting him.

“This place makes the best raktajino I’ve ever tasted,” Will says as they enjoy cups of the strong Klingon brew in the garden of a quaint café overlooking the bay. “They import the beans all the way from Qo’noS.”

“There’s good enough coffee on Earth, surely.” Deanna takes a sip; the sharp kick of the caffeine jolts her, but the flavour is rounded, complex. “This _is_ good though.”

“So,” he says, leaning in to rest a hand on hers. “Tell me about you.”

She tells him all about her successes and trials at the academy, and he listens and periodically interjects with advice or suggestions, or a similar experience he had.

“You look happy, Deanna. Like you were made to be here.”

“So what is it you’ve been doing with yourself?” she asks carefully.

“I’m a tactical analyst,” he says. “Apparently my unorthodox tactics in my early career made me a natural for the job.”

“You enjoy it?”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s Earth-bound.” Will looks up at the blue sky and his thoughts turn wistful. She knows he’s thinking of the starships up there and that part of him wishes he was on board one of them right now.

“I’ve had some time to pursue the things I like. I’ve been learning more jazz pieces, taking fishing trips. Even went to Valdez to see my Dad last weekend.” He rubs his hands together as if shivering. “Boy, it was cold up there.”

“You saw Kyle?” Deanna says, surprised. “That’s great, Will. Are things any better?”

It takes him a moment to answer. “Kind of, yeah. We talked a bit about mom. My miserable childhood is still off-limits.”

“Well, it’s a start.” She smiles, and he returns it with his own dimpled smile that she’s trying very hard not to find cute.

“Look, this time away from a posting has really made me take stock of things.” Will says, very seriously. “I realised I was moving too fast, giving myself no time for a life. I was even willing to sacrifice what we had for the good of my career. If there was any way I could go back and undo what I did, Deanna, I would. I promise.”

Deanna fights her emotions back and gives him a sly look. “If that was supposed to work, it’s working.”

Will frowns. “Working how?”

“As in shut up and come back to my quarters right now.”

Deanna has never seen someone get to their feet so fast. Will nearly trips over a chair in his haste to follow her out the door.

Hours later:

“This doesn’t mean we’re back together,” Deanna says primly, which is no small achievement when she’s curled naked around Will, her curls unpinned and tangled over her shoulders.

“I know,” Will concedes, but he’s grinning far too much for his words to be convincing.

“I’m seeing someone,” she tells him, determined to redraw the boundaries between them.

“Yeah, me too,” Will says airily, reaching an arm up to scratch at his neck. “A few people, actually.”

Deanna snorts. “Some things never change.”

“So, what’s he like?”

“Who said it was a he?” she says impishly.

“No judgement here.”

Deanna thinks for a moment. “This person…they’re quiet, but they have a strength of their own. They remind me to be still. They’re brave.”

Will frowns, and she tries not to smile as she senses his frustration at not knowing who this person is. Then his hand is wandering down her side as he presses deliciously scratchy kisses to her neck and collarbone that make her sigh. By the time his head is between her legs they’ve both forgotten all about it.

She’s not quite sure why she didn’t want to tell him about Ensign Tasha Yar at the time. After pondering the matter, she decides Will hasn’t earned the right to her secrets just yet.

At any rate, Tasha and Deanna break up two weeks later, before Tasha leaves for her next posting. They realise they likely won’t ever be in the same place and it will be better for them both if they leave it in the past. Deanna never regrets their time together, nor does she forget Tasha’s fierce convictions and her ambition to be a security chief by her third year on a starship. She’ll probably get there, too.

Deanna's first-year anniversary in Starfleet passes without much changing between her and Will. Her nights and afternoons in his bed become more frequent, until they’re spending most of their off hours together (which isn’t many hours, given how much Deanna has to study). They aren't committed, but they aren't _not._ She tries not to think about it too closely. There are only months left until she graduates and she isn’t sure what lies in store for her.

Something is different about Will; she sees it. There is a new stillness about him, a desire to just be. He has lost his awkwardness and shed some arrogance along the way. It suits him.

Deanna knows she’s only kidding herself that she can separate the physical part from the emotional. She never could with him, and he knows it only too well.

This balancing act with Will is becoming delicate and she fears she won’t be able to control it any longer.

A couple of months before graduation and after her last final, they’re curled up by the holographic fire in his quarters, wrapped in a blanket. The environmental controls could keep them warm in the mild California winter, but they prefer it this way.

“You’ve been here for nearly two years in a desk job,” Deanna says, eyeing him speculatively. “Tell me the truth, Will. Were you just waiting me out?”

Will is drumming his fingers on her hip in time with to the jazz piece they’re listening to. He’s never stopped trying to get her to like jazz.

“Yep,” he says, unabashed.

“That’s a little creepy, you know,” Deanna says.

“Come on, Deanna,” Will says. “I was hardly pushy. I just figured you’d come around in the end.”

The arrogance in his words irks her and she grabs at his hair hard, before biting down on his neck.

“Mm, I love it when you play rough,” Will says, his voice nearly a growl. He’s already stiffening against her thigh.

Deanna shifts to climb on top of him, her thighs falling open as she straddles him. She’s already wet and open from their first round, so it’s easy enough to pick up where they left off.

“You, Will Riker —“ her breath catches as she starts to sink down on him “— are the most infuriating, arrogant individual I’ve ever met.”

 _You’re so wet_ , he sends. _If you hadn’t wrung me out already that could almost push me over the edge right now._

 _Patience, imzadi_ , she returns, letting herself sink into the arousal that’s dripping from his mind. Lesser mortals would be overwhelmed by Will’s intensity as a lover; not her.

Will’s fingertips dig into her hips. “Mm, really.” His expression softens. “Marry me,” he says, and she goes very still in momentary shock.

“Will, be serious — ah,” she says as she starts to move, biting off a moan at the end when Will thrusts back at her and hits just the right spot.

His hand lazily slides lower to trace circles around her clit and she clenches around him with a shock of pleasure.

“I am, imzadi. Never been more serious in my life. I love you more than anything, and I want to make it official.”

_You really are serious, aren’t you?_

_Yeah. Ever known me to joke?_ Beneath the bloom of want in his mind, his thoughts stun her with their clarity.

Deanna laughs softly and reaches up to shove a sweaty lock of hair out of her eyes. Will’s other hand presses harder to her hip, hard enough to bruise skin. They’re both picking up the pace and she can feel the familiar tightening in her abdomen already.

“Not right now, Will,” she says, strained, sharp nails raking down his torso until his breath catches. “I’m close already.”

“Good. And I’m still serious,” Will replies, at the same time pressing down hard on her clit.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re not inside me,” she insists.

Will doesn’t mention it after the sex, nor does he mention it for the next few days. His thoughts are guarded and Deanna knows he wants her to be curious, so she pretends to ignore it.

Eight days later he brings her a ring and to her own surprise, she says yes ( _“He’s young, little one. Does he really know what he wants?”_ the imaginary version of her mother says inside her head, and Deanna ignores it). It’s her grandmother’s ring, large and gaudy with ancestral gems from Betazed. She is both touched and amazed that he managed to get the ring from Lwaxana.

“I had to listen to a lot of threats from your mother involving exactly what she would do to me if I broke your heart again,” Will explains. “I’ll spare you the details, but one of the more colourful ones involved a Vicarian razorback and my scrotum.” He winces.

Deanna leans in to kiss him and makes a mental note to call her mother as soon as she can.

“I guess my station’s going up in the world,” Will says when they break apart, his tone amused, hands sliding down to her hips to pull her closer. “I’m to be husband of Deanna Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Future Keeper of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. Did I leave anything out?”

Deanna grins at him, winding her arms around his neck. “You’ve never seen the Holy Rings of Betazed; you wouldn’t set much stock in me being the heir if you had. I’m pretty sure my mother keeps them in a box at the back of her shoe closet.” 

He snorts. “I just can’t believe Dad’s coming. I hope his speech isn’t too embarrassing.”

“I'm pretty sure my mother will beat him at that,” Deanna says gravely.

Nobody could be prouder than Will when Deanna graduates first in her class, with the special commendation of the immediate rank of lieutenant.

Somewhere beneath Will’s joy, she senses the raw sting of jealousy. He’s trying so hard to hide it.

He comes over to her group and wraps his fingers around hers so their rings clink. Both their bands are simple silver, the enormous Betazoid ring relegated to Deanna’s jewellery box after their ceremony (Lwaxana will probably never forgive her for that).

“My wife,” he says with a grin, and kisses her cheek. “Smart or what?”

Deanna wraps an arm around him and hopes the celebrations will take him out of his own head. She’s determined to enjoy this day.

The first few months of their marriage are rocky.

They end up light years apart, one of the pitfalls of being a married couple in Starfleet.

Despite Will’s excellent performance in Starfleet’s tactical wing, he gets blackballed the first few times he puts out feelers for lieutenant-grade positions on starships. Eventually he gets the _Hood_ , but they only have a second science officer position, the first officer job having long been filled. Captain DeSoto is less than impressed with Will’s choice to take a two-year secondment on Earth, but he takes him on anyway, remembering the glowing recommendations from Captain Pressman.

Deanna gets a position on a starbase as part of their fledgling ship’s counselor program. Her job will involve training licensed mental health professionals from within the Federation to serve aboard ships and provide support to civilians and crew alike.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Deanna tells him as she helps him pack for his new posting. “I sometimes think you’ve sacrificed too much for me. I know where you were heading when you left Betazed.”

“Never,” he says, and the smile on his face is real and warm. “I’d choose you every time. Besides, this is just a blip. Once I get my career going again things should pick up.”

She hopes that’s true.

Deanna has her hands full these days. Starfleet, unsurprisingly, has a lot to be convinced of when it comes to having a trained counselor aboard every ship. Ideally she’d have a team of at least three counselors on each vessel, but that’s a future goal. She has to start somewhere.

The news of Tasha’s death is a knife to the gut that leaves her reeling for weeks afterwards. Will tries to understand, but he’d never known her. Deanna wishes he had. He’d have liked her, she thinks, despite the circumstances.

Given the distance, they try having an open marriage for a while. Will is honest with her about anyone he has a liaison with, and they have strict rules. Deanna indulges once or twice, but quickly realises that sharing Will isn’t so easy for her when they are light years apart. When it comes to any third parties to their relationship, she’d prefer to be there to enjoy it too.

Will takes it better than she thought he would.

“Okay,” he says. “But I’d better get a lot of dirty subspace messages.”

“You can count on it.”

They have their first real fight eight months in. It’s been five months since they saw each other — the _Hood_ is undertaking geological surveys too far from Deanna’s starbase to make leave possible.

The distance is wearing on both of them. The loss of Will’s mind in hers is a particular pain for Deanna; to feel the tendrils of her imzadi’s thoughts wrapping around her own is as natural as breathing for her. To have only words and non-verbal cues to go on makes her feel somewhat removed from their bond.

“I don’t know, Deanna,” Will says flatly from the screen. “I only hear from you once every couple of weeks.”

“That’s not fair. You know I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to put effort into our marriage?”

That hurts exactly the way he meant it to. What she can’t admit is sometimes she simply doesn’t call Will because it would be too hard. His smiles, his laughter and his endearments don’t mean as much as they should when she can’t sense his mind, share that part of herself with him in a way that’s more intimate than any sex could ever be.

“No,” Deanna insists. “I’ve hardly had time for anything, Will. Sleep, food – any of it.”

“Can you get some leave?” he asks, and his face is hard.

She won’t lie to him. “Not right now. I can’t stop what I’m building here, Will. Starfleet is on the verge of accepting our new mental health protocols. The newer counselors will be better trained for space than ever before.”

“Forgive me if I get in the way of the rise and rise of Deanna Troi,” he snaps. “Lieutenant straight out of the academy, published papers before she even graduated. Brilliant and above all others.”

“I’m going to hang up, now, Will,” she says, voice shaking, her finger hovering over the button to terminate the connection.

“Don’t,” he pleads. “I’m sorry. It's not you; I’m being a huge jerk. I’m tired and pretty pissed off right now, to be honest. Captain DeSoto runs a tight ship. I was going to take the lieutenant commander’s exams next week, but my leave to go to the starbase got cancelled. Excuse me if I’m kind of bitter about it.”

“Fine. But you don’t get to be bitter about my successes, and you don’t get to blame me for how things are going.”

“I know,” he says with a sigh. “I’m always getting it wrong, aren’t I?”

“No. Anything but.” Deanna takes a deep slow, breath and tries to let go of her annoyance at Will. “I’m sorry it’s difficult right now on the _Hood._ I just can’t take leave at such a crucial time in the project. We’ve already got the first generation of counselors on board ships.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he says, his voice distorted over the weak subspace connection. His eyes are tired and she knows that underneath his exhaustion, he’s proud of her. “Not anymore, anyway. It’s just — I miss you so much sometimes, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

She touches her fingertips to the screen.

“Me too, imzadi. I hate the way I can’t feel you.”

“I know,” Will agrees. “I got used to having you inside my head. Besides, having sex over subspace really isn’t the same.” He smiles faintly.

“Will! This isn’t a private connection, remember; I had to use a Starfleet channel to get the signal.”

“Couldn’t help it.” His communicator beeps. “Love you, Deanna. Over and out.”

The connection drops, and Deanna sighs and wonders if she can really have it all.

The decision is made for her in the end. Starbase 97 is badly damaged in an ion storm while she’s away at a conference on Casparia Prime. They manage to evacuate in time and there are no casualties, but the whole medical wing will need to be rebuilt over a period of months. Deanna is forced to move on.

Will is adamant that it’s not a safe part of space for her to be in, and she concedes he might have a point.

The subspace call from Captain Robert DeSoto the same day is quite a surprise.

“Lieutenant Troi,” DeSoto says from the screen, easy smile on his face, his folksy manner belying the way he gets straight to the point. “We need a ship’s counselor and I’ve heard you’re good. Terrible luck for 97, by the way. I’ve always said that starbase was an ancient piece of Federation junk held together with string.”

“Thank you for the offer, Captain. But I’m sure you know who my husband is. ”

“It’s not a favour to Will, or you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His eyes are twinkling. “I think you’ll like it here, Deanna. We’re no space cowboys, but the _Hood_ is a cracking little ship. Say yes.”

She does.

Will is ecstatic when Deanna arrives a few weeks later.

They settle into life on the _Hood_ in matching blue uniforms _._ It’s only a small ship, not like the larger exploration vessels that go into the deepest reaches of space. Over the next three years, they go from starbase to planetary survey to starbase then back again, but there’s enough to keep them both busy. Will might not love his science officer position, but he’s competent enough at it.

Deanna thinks of her father and the stories he told her of wild frontiers. She’d like to see those someday, as Will would, but their time will come. For now, being on the same ship seems like the best kind of luck, and they delight in it together.

She knows that Will minds more than a little that she gets her third hollow pip before him, but he has finally learned the grace not to complain about it. He spends hours grilling her in preparation for the Bridge Officer’s Test and consoles her the first three times she fails. She isn’t allowed to tell him how she finally passed.

“Imzadi, you did it!” Will says in excitement, swinging her around in his arms when she gets the confirmation from the ship’s first officer that she passed.

Deanna can’t help laugh at his enthusiasm. “Will. Enough. Put me down.”

“I’m just proud of you. That’s all.”

DeSoto is tough but fair as a captain. He tells Will one day that he’s wasting himself in the science division and suggests he switch to command track. The first time Deanna sees her husband in red, with the new rank of lieutenant commander, it’s as if he should have been wearing it all along.

Months later, it’s Will’s turn at the Bridge Officer’s test and he passes first time. Apparently he has no problem sending holographic crewmates to their deaths.

They celebrate so enthusiastically afterwards — first with the lovely new ensign from stellar sciences, then just the two of them — that Will can hardly sit down the next day. On night shift, Deanna grins at him from the captain’s chair while he flies the ship, enjoying his occasional smouldering looks as evidence of what they did that afternoon.

 _Worth it_ , he says inside her head, eyes still fixed on the helm console.

Deanna smothers a laugh behind her hand. She’s not at all surprised that Ensign Batir switched his duty shift after a few hours with the two of them.

It’s not for the fainthearted.

The battle of Wolf 359 brings unexpected opportunities for them both. At the time, the _Hood_ is on a research mission in deep space (for once) and too far away to offer assistance. They don’t make it in time before the Borg are destroyed.

The first officer of the Federation flagship was unfortunately assimilated by the Borg and forced to act as their mouthpiece. Will has been selected as the replacement and been given the rank of full commander. By some stroke of dumb luck, Jean-Luc Picard has requested Deanna as his new ship's counselor.

“The _Enterprise_ is a beauty, Deanna,” Will tells her after his visit to the ship on McKinley Station where she’s undergoing repairs. “These Galaxy-class ships are really something. I can’t wait for you to see her. Our new quarters are huge compared to the _Hood_.” His eyes are shining.

They’re in that San Francisco coffee shop they both love so well, enjoying hazelnut raktajino.

Will’s smile fades. “It was a shame about Paul Rice. He was a good guy. I heard Picard fought hard to retrieve him, but they couldn’t get him back in time before they destroyed the Borg ship.”

“Lucky for me that their ship’s counselor had a breakdown after her wife died and there was an opening,” Deanna says. The words come out hollow.

“You earned it, Deanna.”

“Yes. But still.” She picks up her cup and breathes in the sweet, acidic steam rising from her coffee.

“I know I wasn’t the first choice, not even the third, probably,” Will says with brutal honesty. “I’m not experienced enough. But they lost so many people that there aren’t many stellar candidates kicking around these days.”

She squeezes his hand and sends, _I’m proud of you anyway. And you’re more than qualified for this._ He can’t bring himself to smile.

They drink the rest of their coffee in brooding silence. This victory is bittersweet for them both, knowing everything that the Federation has lost. Sharing in each other’s pain can be a double-edged sword at times like this, every emotion magnified tenfold.

Sometimes the things you want come to you in ways you never expect, Deanna will tell herself years later. But right then, all she feels is guilt, and she can’t tell whether it comes from Will or her.

First Officer Paul Rice and Counselor Joanna Achebe were extremely popular by all accounts. From the first second Deanna steps on to the bridge with Will, she can sense the distrust and resentment emanating from the minds around them.

Jean-Luc Picard stands before them, drawn up straight, as stiff and formal as any Starfleet captain she’s ever seen. A long moment passes and then he reaches for her hand.

“Welcome, Counselor Troi. Glad to have you aboard.” His eyes flick to Will. “And this is your husband?”

“Will Riker, sir,” Will says confidently, and she can feel he’s trying not to be rattled by the captain’s demeanour. “Your new first officer.”

The captain looks him up and down. He doesn’t shake his hand.

“Very good, Number One. Meet me in my ready room immediately for a briefing.” He turns to Deanna.

 _Well, he’s a picnic_ is Will’s whisper in her mind.

_I think his bark’s worse than his bite. Wait and see._

“Counselor, I’ve asked our Chief Medical Officer, Beverly Crusher to show you around,” Captain Picard says. “She’ll be here in a moment.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Will goes with the captain while an ensign shows her around the bridge.

Any uncertainty Deanna had been harbouring is muted when she meets Dr Beverley Crusher and is swept to her new counselling offices for a friendly mug of Valerian root tea. Beverly’s warmth is evident immediately.

“We’re so glad to have someone of your calibre aboard, Counselor.” She leans closer and gives Deanna a conspiratorial look. “I’ve been following you since the proposals you published when you were at the academy. I think your work is groundbreaking.”

“Thank you,” Deanna says shyly, and smiles. “Call me Deanna.”

“I prefer Beverly too,” Beverly says, sipping her tea calmly as though she isn’t head of a large medical team and responsible for the health of over a thousand individuals.

Deanna admires her already.

Later, Will tells her the captain had him perform a manual docking of the saucer section.

“I was sweating like high summer on Vulcan, Deanna. I didn’t think I was going to pull it off.” Will is exhilarated, still high on the adrenaline from passing his captain’s first test.

“Being the first officer of the flagship certainly becomes you, Will Riker,” Deanna says.

“I just hope I can live up to it.” He looks towards their new and very large bed and Deanna shivers as she senses the tenor of his thoughts change.

 _Those silk sheets…they’re begging to be ruined_ , he sends. She feels a rush of heat between her thighs as images surge through their link to her mind — Will bending her over the desk while he fucks her achingly slowly, not letting her come until he says so; her in a chair while he kneels before her, his fingers and tongue spreading her open so delicately, the wet heat of his mouth on her clit making her cry out and grasp his hair; Will face down on the bed, hands cuffed behind his back while a replicated riding crop in her hand leaves angry red stripes all over his ass and thighs.

“My, my, aren’t we feeling lively tonight,” Deanna teases, her eyes fixing on his with intent. “Sure you’re up to it, Commander?”

_You won’t be getting much sleep tonight, Will._

“Try me, Counselor.”

They’re nearly late for the senior staff briefing the next morning.

Despite the crew's initial reaction to their presence, Deanna and Will find their social foothold on the _Enterprise_ quickly. Will's easy, open manner has always helped him make friends easily, and the more guarded Deanna appreciates her husband more than ever for this at the start.

There is a relaxed atmosphere on board ship and a dizzying array of off-duty activities are available: holodecks, anbo-jyutsu, parrisses squares, choral singing, tri-d chess leagues and an endless roster of poetry readings and music recitals to attend. Captain Picard expects his crew to work hard and play hard in equal measure; it suits them both down to the ground. Will joins the band immediately and drives Deanna crazy by practising his trombone skills every spare moment he gets. She loves to see him like this; happy but driven, too.

She gradually begins to make friends on her own merits. Beverly and her quickly become close, and in the years to come, she remains Deanna's close confidante and sage guide to life aboard the Federation flagship. Deanna takes mok'bara with Worf and learns that the grumpy Klingon security chief has a wonderfully pointed sense of humour. Geordi is more introverted and it takes him a while to warm up to Deanna, but poker games and staff events in Ten Forward bring him out of his shell. She'll come to love quirky Data best of all; they both share a mutual interest in human psychology and a fascination for alien cultures.

The Captain himself is harder to get to know, but in their meetings together, Deanna comes to know a man who cares deeply about everyone aboard his ship, despite his aloof manner. Underneath the persona of a captain, Jean-Luc has the heart of an idealistic explorer. They spend many of these meetings discussing obscure aspects of anthropology, Terran and Betazoid history when they are supposed to be reviewing crew evaluations, and Deanna never minds a bit.

She has found her place in the world.

Six months later, Will comes to meet Deanna in Ten Forward looking far from his usual buoyant self. He slumps into a chair opposite her, his posture hunched.

“Will,” Deanna says in alarm, learning forward to place a comforting touch on his arm. He covers her hand with his in way of showing he appreciates the gesture, then moves it. It’s obvious he needs his space right now.

“I didn’t get a good evaluation from the captain,” he admits. He signals for a synthale.

“Oh,” she says, waiting for him to go on.

“Is that all you can say, Deanna?” Will says, exasperated. “It’s Jean-Luc Picard! He could end my career with one word if he wanted to.”

Deanna keeps her face serene and tucks away the brief flare of worry she just felt at Will’s words.

“What did he say?”

Will’s eyes have a wild quality to them, and his gestures are anxious as he speaks, his foot tapping on the floor.

“He says I’m too cautious, too by-the-book, and that’s not the kind of officer he needs. He was considering having me transferred off at the next starbase, but then said he’d combed through my file and decided I was worth keeping for now. That he’d seen evidence of a man who had both the ability and the conviction to take risks.”

Deanna forgets herself in her sympathy, tries to take his hand and he pulls it away.

“Deanna, don’t pity me,” Will says, an edge to his voice. “I could stand anything from the captain, but not pity from you.”

Her husband: always so proud, even now. Deanna almost wants to smile. She is careful not to.

“I don’t pity you, imzadi,” she tells him gently. “I just want to listen, and help if I can. Why don’t you try and think of this as an opportunity for growth? I know it isn’t what you wanted to hear, but it doesn’t mean things can’t change.”

Will sighs, takes a large gulp of his drink. “I suppose you’re right. No use moping about it. Maybe I’m too comfortable with myself.”

“There is something to be said for a little uncertainty now and again,” Deanna says. “You’re experienced now, able to weigh a situation carefully, manage risks. A responsible married man. That’s a good thing. But remember that young, insubordinate, impetuous officer who jumped into everything feet-first, never thinking of the consequences? I fell in love with him, too. And I think he’s still in there somewhere.”

She watches a mischievous smile spread over his face, and oh, that smile never gets old. Deanna could drag him to her quarters right now and have her way with him (and probably will after shift is over, if she’s honest with herself).

“Maybe it’s time to throw the book away,” he says, and tosses the rest of the synthale back in one swallow, as if it’s a promise.

Things change for Will in a matter of weeks.

He turns the corner the day he stares down Picard and refuses to let him beam down on an away mission on the grounds it’s too dangerous. After that, the respect he always longed for from his captain is a given.

Deanna grows into her new role and finds purpose in her successful counseling practice and the knowledge that she’s helping her crew navigate the stressful environment of life on a starship. Once the captain sees her prove herself on missions to alien planets, she is invited to assist in first contact briefings and delights in putting her language skills and cultural knowledge to good use. She becomes a full commander, sits extra shifts on the bridge and manages to avert disaster when a quantum filament hits the Enterprise.

Over their next few years on the _Enterprise,_ Will proves himself more than she could ever imagine.

Sometimes it terrifies Deanna, the things Will does, but his risks are never mindless, and usually taken for the good of ship and crew. She has to remind herself that this is the life they both chose, and the continued strength of their bond sees her through all the times when she isn’t sure Will is going to make it back to the ship.

They get through so many things together — Deanna's mind violation at the hands of the Ullian Jev, Will’s imprisonment and neurosomatic torture on Tilonus IV, her abduction and subsequent forced role as a Romulan intelligence officer — and the family they found together on this ship are there right beside them.

The appearance of Will’s double is a bizarre experience for them both. Thomas Riker transfers off the ship after only one day as soon as evaluations have cleared him. They don’t have to ask why: he was obviously haunted by the relationship that was once his, the choices Will made to be with her that could have been his to make.

It makes Will confront his own choices. “I remember that guy,” he tells her afterwards. “He didn’t care about anyone but himself, deep down. Could have been me.” He shudders.

“He _is_ you, Will,” Deanna says gently. “He might have come around in the end and realised what was important. We are our choices, for better or worse, and we don’t always know what’s right at the time.”

She never hears what happens to Thomas after that, but thinks of him occasionally, hoping he found the same peace his counterpart has gained over the years.

In 2370, Deanna manages to take on two more ship’s counselors, and finds more time for research as her workload lightens. Will gets offered command of the _USS Sutherland_ , but ultimately decides he isn’t ready to leave this ship.

She would have moved on, if he’d wanted that — a captain’s position rarely comes up — but is secretly glad he’s happy to stay for now.

The _Enterprise_ is special; she knows that more than anything.

2371 isn’t the best year, what with the destruction of their ship and Will’s year-long first officer secondment to the _USS Custer_ while its replacement is built _._ A few years into their marriage, the separation is easier to deal with than it was at the start but no less painful.

“You’ll get through it, Deanna,” Beverly says over drinks at one of the Starfleet campus bars. “Jack and I did, and you’ve been married much longer than we were.” There’s a sad edge to her smile, and Deanna squeezes her hand.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Beverly’s smile is genuine. “It’s funny, I can think of him now and it doesn’t hurt as much. It took years, of course.” She pauses. “My point is, you can get through anything if you have to. Will has strength, and you have that same strength too. More than you think.”

“I guess that’s true,” Deanna says, her heart already feeling lighter.

She keeps busy. She has a lot of free time to take up gardening, attend the classical music concerts that she loves and practise Betazoid meditation. The mind training of her people has stayed with her, but it’s hard to find the time to centre herself on board ship. Meditation grounds her and reminds her of the important things in life. She has someone who loves her and understands her, and though he might be light years away right now, she is grateful for every moment they’ve had together, and all the moments yet to come.

Her other crewmates are scattered to the winds in various temporary positions, but at least Beverley is here. They take brisk walks up the steep hills of the city whenever they can find the time, and talk of their new ship and the worlds they long to visit.

Beverley has plans for a new improv theatre class she’s sure Worf won’t be able to resist. Deanna is content with being able to design her new counseling offices, larger than she’s ever had before.

There are many blessings in this world, she reminds herself on the nights she looks at the space in the bed where Will should be and it aches inside of her.

“I think I want to start a family,” Deanna blurts out to Data one day when they are reviewing the personnel files. They’re in her office at Starfleet Medical ahead of the _Enterprise-E’s_ maiden voyage. She can almost taste the relief in her mind of having her crew back together again.

“Many species have an inbuilt desire to procreate,” Data says, nodding sagely. “As I once did with Lal. I wonder why you feel that there is a great need to tell me this?”

“That’s not what I meant, Data,” Deanna says, frowning. Data hastily rearranges his expression to look concerned.

“Oh, I see. If I am correct in my assumption, Commander Riker does not share your feelings on this?”

“I’m not sure, Data,” she murmurs.

“There is still much I do not understand about relationships,” Data admits. “But would it not make sense to simply ask the commander if he shares your feelings regarding this matter?”

“Oh, Data,” Deanna says, linking her arm into his. “You’re very right. It would make so much sense in relationships if we could always be honest about our feelings. But these things are difficult sometimes. There are nuances.”

“Perhaps I had better put it this way,” Data says thoughtfully. “What would you say, if you were counseling yourself?”

He’s got her there.

Deanna hadn’t realised how much she does want it until she said the words out loud. It was an issue she and Will had always tiptoed around over the years. He was usually thinking of his career and she knew growing up with Kyle hadn’t exactly endeared him to fatherhood. She’d always thought she didn’t care either way, but maybe that’s changing.

When Lwaxana comes to visit she is always embarrassing, gushing with pride to random Starfleet employees about how brilliant her daughter is.

Deanna wonders what it would be like to feel that way about another person; a being who is part of you in a way more intrinsic even than the bond shared between husband and wife.

The day Will gets back:

“You want to do what?”

“I want to have a baby.” They’re together on the couch, and Deanna is twisting her fingers together, her throat tight at the thought he might say no. This destroys couples all the time; she’s counseled them, seen it so many times. No way around it.

Will frowns. He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Well,” he says, stroking his beard. “It would change things a lot.”

Deanna is trying not to cry. “No, then?”

Will looks at her, sensing her emotions, and pulls her into his arms.

 _Sorry, imzadi_ he sends _._ Out loud: “Okay.”

“Okay?” Deanna is puzzled. She should be thrilled, but he doesn’t sound all that enthusiastic.

“I never wanted them before, I’m not going to lie,” Will admits. “But it’s different with you. I could see myself managing not to make a hash of the whole thing if you were there to guide me.” He kisses her forehead. “Besides, if it’s anything like you, I’ll be the proudest father ever.”

“So you want to try? I had Beverly check me out, just in case. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Uhuh.” Will eyes her appraisingly. “Want to get started now?”

“Not right now, no. I just wanted to know that you would say yes when I wanted to.”

Will covers her hand with his own. “You just say the word whenever it’s time. And I guess I should check in with the doctor, too.”

Deanna presses a soft kiss to his lips and sighs as it quickly deepens, Will’s hands in her hair.

 _I don’t object to practising, of course,_ she sends while their mouths are still locked together, and feels him laugh inside her mind.

Despite their agreement on the issue, life gets in the way and it takes them a few more years to start trying.

Elizabeth Kestra Troi — named for the mother Will lost and the sister Deanna never knew — makes her entrance at 0423 hours on May 12th , 2379 by the old Terran calendar.

“She’s perfect,” Deanna whispers, the warm weight of her new baby in her arms and Will’s hand in hers. The tiny mind of their daughter is bright in her thoughts, a new and shining link to go with the bond she already shares with Will.

“I think she kind of looks like Lwaxana,” Will says thoughtfully.

“Will!”

“What? Your mother’s a good-looking woman.”

Deanna huffs and he kisses the top of her head, then Elizabeth’s cheek. The baby stirs, making a small sound, but she doesn’t wake.

“She probably doesn’t like your beard,” Deanna teases, exhausted though she is.

“Hush, imzadi,” he murmurs, shifting the baby into his arms. “Rest now. I’ve got her.”

Deanna is grateful. She slips into sleep almost immediately.

Their daughter’s baptism is arranged to be held in Alaska. Data will apparently be singing. Deanna doesn’t believe in it, but Will argues staunchly for an old Earth religious tradition and she’s happy if he is happy.

A week before the auspicious occasion, he is offered command of the _USS Titan,_ one of the new Luna-class starships.

It’s everything Will ever wanted and Deanna is proud of him beyond measure. She thinks of that young, brash officer she met on Betazed who would have put his career before anything, until her. He’d say he chose her, but really they chose each other. She’s still choosing him every day.

“I hear there’s a diplomatic officer position going on your ship, Captain,” Deanna says, seated in the rocking chair while Elizabeth is feeding. “With my first contact experience and knowledge of xenolinguistics, surely I could be considered for the role.”

Will is absorbed in a PADD with the _Titan’s_ schematics, but he looks up and winks at her.

“Well, I don’t know, Counselor,” he says, mock-serious. “There are a lot of other strong candidates, but you’ll certainly be under consideration.”

“I’ll go with you even if I don’t get it, you know,” she tells him. “It’s my turn to make some sacrifices for our family.”

“I hope you won’t have to,” Will says, his eyes soft as he looks at her settled with their daughter. “But thanks anyway.”

She gets the job three days later. It was the Admiralty board who decided, not Will, due to the personal conflict of interest. Of course, they’d both known she was the best person for the job, but it’s still a relief to see their future together taking shape.

Deanna stands in front of the bedroom mirror, trying on potential dresses for the baptism and abandoning them one after the other.

She’s conscious of her stomach, its soft swell still visible beneath her clothing, a reminder that her uterus hasn’t yet returned to its pre-pregnancy size. Many new mothers don’t bother to wait out the long weeks and simply speed the process along. It’s common in the 24th century, a matter of simple microsurgery, but Deanna doesn’t like the idea of hiding the evidence of what her body did, this small marvel she carried inside her for months.

Still, it’s hard to get used to, and her normal confidence in her figure has taken a bit of a hit.

Will comes up behind her, slides a hand around her waist to rest on her belly.

“Will, don’t.” She tries to wriggle out of his grip.

“I know what you’re thinking. And you shouldn’t. You’ve never been more beautiful for bringing our child into the world. I swear it.”

As if to make his point, he pulls her hips tight against him where he is unmistakeably hard.

Deanna smothers a laugh and turns around in his arms to kiss him.

“Will, you know it’s too early. They say six weeks.”

“I know,” Will says, his eyes twinkling. “I’m fine. Might be something else we can do for you, though.” He pauses, new anxiety in his thoughts. “Only if you want to.”

“I do,” she says, already leading him towards the bedroom.

He’s nervous, keeps asking if he’s hurting her, but by the time he’s kissed along her neck, her sensitive breasts, her stomach, she practically shoves his fingers down onto her clit. Will is so, so, careful, making sure to let her hand on his guide his movements, keeping well away from where she’s still feeling tender. The orgasm he coaxes from her is welcome after all her body’s been through.

He also manages not to look too stunned when milk comes spraying from her breasts.

Deanna sighs heavily. “You really still want me like this?”

“Of course I still want you, imzadi,” he says sweetly as he tosses his milk-stained shirt into the recycler. “Always.”

On cue, Elizabeth starts loudly making her presence known. Will goes to get the baby (with washed hands) and carries her to the bed so Deanna can latch her on.

The baptism ceremony goes off without a hitch.

At the party afterwards, Data’s rendition of the old Earth classic _Isn’t She Lovely_ is a hit with the guests. Privately, Deanna finds it rather syrupy, but she’s touched by the gesture.

“You know, you have to be naked for Betazoid naming ceremonies as well as weddings, Jean-Luc,” Deanna says casually and watches their captain’s face pale.

“I wish you’d told me.” He drains his champagne glass and gets to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hit the hotel gym.”

They both laugh and when Will leans in to kiss her, his hand splayed out over her cheek, Deanna sighs in contentment.

“I love you, Will,” she says. “I couldn’t do this without you. Any of it.”

“As I love you. And Lizzie.”

“We’re not calling her that,” Deanna says firmly.

“What about Betty? Like my mom.” His eyes are beseeching.

“That I’ll consider.”

“Care to dance, Counselor?” Will says playfully, holding out his hand.

“Thought you’d never ask.” She lets him pull her to her feet and sweep her into a giddy waltz. Beverly waves at them from where she's dancing with Jean-Luc.

Worf has fallen asleep in his Romulan ale and Data and Geordi are happily babysitting Elizabeth at another table. Data appears to be enchanted by all their daughter’s expressions and subvocal oscillations. The feeling is mutual, according to Elizabeth; she stares up at Data with wide eyes, placid and content.

“I’m not sure I can give her back,” Geordi says, handing over Elizabeth when all the guests have left. “She’s a real cutie.”

Hours later, when they are both miserably awake while the baby howls with colic and ignores their attempts to soothe her, Deanna thinks some of her judgements of her mother may have been too harsh. Parenting, for all its joys, is the greatest challenge they’ve faced in their Starfleet careers so far.

They never make it to Betazed for the naming ceremony — Deanna will never hear the end of it from Lwaxana, she’s sure — and Will’s first command ends up being tainted by all they went through with Shinzon.

The random acts of the universe seem so senseless when she thinks of Data, perhaps the best of them all. Gone.

Their marriage goes through a rough few months as she struggles to articulate what happened to her and how it has changed her, and Will struggles to understand. For once, she turns to the ship’s counselor herself and slowly begins to heal.

Their sixteenth wedding anniversary passes without fanfare, followed by their daughter’s first birthday. The _Titan_ is exploring a distant nebula at the edge of the Alpha Quadrant so their closest friends can’t attend, but they have a celebration with the crew and enjoy the subspace messages from those who can’t be there. Worf sends a formal greeting wishing them the best of luck on their daughter’s naming day and assuring them that she is a first-rate specimen of small, female human. Jean-Luc supplies a holo-image of himself singing happy birthday on the old _Enterprise-D_ bridge, complete with straw hat and cane, and Will and Deanna laugh themselves silly. Geordi’s is perhaps the most moving of all; his message is intended for when Elizabeth is older — saying how he wished she’d known Data — and includes footage of him and Data with her as a tiny baby. Beverly promises to spoil their daughter with presents next time they stop by her starbase.

Upon seeing Jean-Luc's transmission, baby Lizzie (Will has won on that one, unfortunately, and their daughter has started to say _Iz-ee_ to refer to herself) claps her hands and giggles. They have to play the clip at least fifty times by Deanna’s count.

“You ever think about what would have happened if I hadn’t come to Risa?” Will says one night.

He’s at his desk, writing the reports that never seem to end for a captain. Deanna is curled up on the couch, enjoying a cup of Betazoid uttaberry tea after a long day of counseling. She only has a few minutes before they have to pick up Elizabeth from the ship’s childcare service and she’s learned to savour them.

“Hm,” she says, thoughtful. “I think I would have got on with my life. And you would have had the things you wanted for yourself a lot sooner without me in the picture.”

“Ouch!” Will says, some amusement evident in his tone. “I mean, yeah. Maybe. I know you’d have moved on. Me too. I’m not that tragic. But do you think we’d ever have met again after that?”

“I had this dream once,” Deanna confesses. “It wasn’t long after I started at the academy, when we weren’t speaking. I was somewhere else — a ship, a starbase, I don’t know, but I could see stars out of the window before me. I was looking out at those stars. It was another me; I was wearing this purple jumpsuit I’ve never seen before in my life. And that dream me was convinced you were thinking about me too, wherever you were. It felt so real. When I woke up my heart was pounding. Then the next day, I saw you in the archive building and you asked me out. I guess it felt like a sign.”

“Never knew your dreams were on my side,” Will says with a chuckle. “Dreams reveal our deepest subconscious desires, right?”

“You’re welcome to peruse my books on Jungian dream theory if you’re interested.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Will is silent for a moment. “Maybe you saw an alternate reality? I’ll still say we end up together after all, even in some other timeline. Maybe we meet again on another ship. Something like that.”

“Maybe.” Deanna smiles softly and picks up her tea. “You’re nothing if not an optimist, Will Riker.”

“Nah. Just overconfident.” He glances at the chronometer on his desk. “I'll go get Lizzie.”

“Thank you.”

Will gets to his feet and presses a brief kiss to the corner of her mouth before he goes on his way.

At the door, he pauses. “Imzadi,” he says. “You were the best choice I ever made.”

After he leaves, Deanna sinks further into the couch and contemplates his words. She can't help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you really wanted to see [Picard singing and dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3rFNbSKpEE).
> 
> Canon consensus seems to be that Deanna did her Starfleet training on Betazed, but anyway, AU so *handwaving*.


End file.
